


Dream or Visitation?

by trustisforfools



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 16:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustisforfools/pseuds/trustisforfools
Summary: There's a chance you haven't been dreaming of your butler every night solely because you want him so badly, but because he wants you too. (your character doesn't know he's a demon, she's totally clueless...and she's 18+ bc dude Sebastian is an adult)





	Dream or Visitation?

“You’ve never been more beautiful than you are right now,” a dark and velvety voice whispers to you, hot breath dancing on the surface of your neck and sending trails of warm tingles throughout your naked body. At least you think you’re naked. You can’t seem to pull your gaze to yourself because you’re mesmerized by the dark shades of red surrounding you in a soft, fluid show of shadow and light. More of a dull radiating heat than a void, it feels safe and…contained. You can tell that your back is supported by something…a wall? And pinning you against it, the man with the deeply arousing voice lets out a soft snicker. Something hard presses against you and tantalizes the growing pressure at the base of your abdomen. “That ensemble really suited you; it’s a bit of a shame to see it on the floor,” he adds, now undulating against you while pangs of heat flash through your lower stomach and reach all the way to your chest with every word he utters. You can’t see his face because his mouth is at work on your neck, alternating between wet kisses and pleasantly firm suction. It’s no mystery though; even despite his unmistakable voice, it’s as though you’d decided you know his identity, maybe even projected your thoughts onto him, and believed them. But for some reason you can’t remember how you’d gotten there or why you were so sure it’s him, even before you heard him speak. Your hips rock desperately against his, and you’re shocked by how quickly the movement and friction become more and more gratifying. It’s just…unrealistic? 

“Now that I have you all to myself, I want you to come for me, _my Lady_.”

“Se..bastian..” an orgasm seems just within reach when his presence fades from your awareness, and you’re left in a frustrated haze. You blink, adjusting to the darkness in your bedroom. The moon, likely facing the other side of the mansion, barely offers enough light through your window for your furniture to appear as anything but smudges and shadows. As your (denied) climax disappears, you release an annoyed sigh and roll onto your side, trying to fall back asleep to finish your dream. This isn’t the first or even the second time you’ve woken up in the middle of a sex dream about your butler. In fact there’ve been too many to count and not one of them has gone uninterrupted. A few minutes of tossing and turning cause you to lose your patience. For the first time, you’re more horny (and angry) than tired and the only valid solution seems to be to fetch a glass of water. When you light your oil lamp, you discover that Sebastian hasn’t refilled the pitcher on your bedside table for the night. Another displeased grumble finds its way out of your throat but it’s quickly stifled when you realize how unlike Sebastian this is. Because it’s the middle of the night, and you’re quite thirsty, you’re going to have to fetch it from the kitchen yourself, albeit begrudgingly. 

You fumble through corridors and down stairs to find that the kitchen is lit and a tall, familiar figure is standing over by the sink. 

“Oh…pardon me, Sebastian,” you greet the man you’d practically been begging to fuck not fifteen minutes ago, “My water seems to have been empty and I was going to fill it but…I wasn’t expecting you to be up this late.”

Dressed in his uniform and looking as refreshed as though he’d a full night’s sleep, he chuckles, “I’m quite a light sleeper, so when I awoke to the sound of a mouse in the wall I followed it here, but then I lost it again,” he shrugs, “I decided to double-check the tidiness of the kitchen while I was in here. My apologies about your pitcher, Miss, I do distinctly remember telling Finny to take care of it tonight. Shall I take it now?” You nod and hand it to him, then watch as he fills it. “Allow me to carry it back for you?”

“Yes please,” you reply, biting your bottom lip as needy thoughts re-enter your mind.

_It’s so late. He’s never been in your room so late._

Sebastian switches off the light and waits for you to leave before shutting the door behind the two of you. Your lamp trembles slightly as you attempt to steady your hands and…just about your whole core. You’re finally going to do it. You’re going to ask him this time.

_He’ll do anything you say. He has to. Never mind how unprofessional it is..._

_No you won’t! He’ll drop you off and you’ll shut the door in his face like a proper heiress and take care of yourself quietly._

“Is everything alright, my Lady?” he asks with genuine concern.

“Hm?…O-of course!” you respond quietly as the two of you climb the stairs, “I’m just a bit cold.”

Upon reaching your bedroom, Sebastian opens the door for you to enter, then follows to place the pitcher on your bedside table once you set your lamp down. 

“Pleasant dreams,” he coos when you take a seat on your bed, not reclining yet. “Do forgive me. I’ll speak to Finny in the morning but the blame is ultimately mine, for it’s my responsibility to see that your water is always full.”

“Oh there’s no harm done, Sebastian, really,” you chuckle nervously, combining hasty phrases in your head and searching for a convincing enough way to ask him.

“You’re too gracious, my Lady. It won’t happen again.” He smiles, “Good night.” You allow him to take a few steps before you finally blurt out his name again. He turns, “Yes?”

“Could you stay a bit longer? I’m not…exactly good at erm…well I can’t sleep.” 

“Oh, well...I suppose I could try and help,” he gently agrees as he makes his way back to your bed and stands beside it. 

“You’ll have a seat, won’t you?” you ask too impulsively for yourself to even believe it. 

“If you’d like for me to,” he accepts. He…accepts?? “You should probably start by adjusting yourself, you know getting comfortable is more than half the battle,” he jokes as he sits next to you.

“I’m actually quite comfortable,” you lie. You’re praying he can’t hear how loud your heart is thumping amidst the stillness, and your hands would most definitely be fidgeting in your lap had you not decided to sit on them. 

“I’m certain,” he laughs, “but I believe you’d have to lie down if the goal is to fall asleep.” His smile is sickeningly sweet. So much so that you’re losing your patience again. You need his hands on you. You need to finally feel his mouth and his body heat for real. 

“I suppose you’re right,” you lower your head onto his lap, a move so bold you’re barely allowing it to register in your mind. How can you be fully present when what you're asking for is so unheard of? You want to look at him and see a face that is far from innocent. You want to see eyes that know exactly what they want from you, that demand to know how badly you want him just by looking at you. A glare so sure, so satisfied when you squirm, just the way you’d been imagining it each time. God does he deliver when his gaze follows you down. His eyes are enough to set you on fire, but he doesn’t let up on the feigned innocence just yet. 

“That’s not what I meant,” his tone is as light and playful as before, but heavily juxtaposed by his knowing grin and challenging eyes. You detect not an ounce of shock in them, and you know he’s game.

“Nonsense, Sebastian,” your heightened confidence encourages you to play back, “now tell me a story.” You stretch your torso to get comfortable, but also to draw attention to your curves. 

“Ah,” he chuckles, “perhaps you know the one about the young woman who’s much too old for bedtime stories and would do better to try and relax her mind at this late hour.” He hesitates, then gently tangles his fingers in your hair, “May I? Mey-Rin has said that you like it.”  
Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the movement of individual hairs which sends chills all over your scalp and then in short bursts down throughout the rest of your body.

“Uh, yes, I do, er...very much.” How unexpected, you’d been starving for something entirely different, but his softness is enough to almost leave you stuttering.

“I hope I can do her skillful hands justice on your lovely hair.” You wonder if you mistook the (momentarily less-gentle) grip as a tug, but it was barely detectable. 

“More than you’d think, actually,” your arousal is getting much harder to suppress, especially with- another tug. But the smallest of tugs! It happens whenever his fingers graze your scalp. You mentally kick yourself for biting your lip; your eyes are closed but he probably saw. God how you wish he’d just quit teasing and yank it already. But he doesn’t knooooow….does he??

_Try it, just try it….!_

“But um, if I had a request, you’d have to fulfill it, wouldn’t you?” you attempt. Obviously you can’t just blurt out FUCK ME, you’ve got to be classy…for now.

His thumb just barely caresses the back of your neck. “Hm, within reason, but you know I’m capable of quite a lot,” he chuckles but when you open your eyes, his are challenging yours again, this time with feigned concern; he’s waiting for your reply. 

“Sebastian just pull it,” you hold your breath, “please.” 

He grins, “Please? My Lady, I don’t think you’ve ever asked for anything so politely. How could I-“ he takes a handful of hair from the back of your head and holds it firmly, “ _not_ oblige?”

Your lips part, letting in a quick breath as you’re equally relieved and anxious; the former to be on the same page, and the latter, to ask for more. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say your cheeks are a bit rosy, even in this dim lighting, I can tell,” his voice has lost any trace of innocence. This is an entirely different man, “Did you have something else to ask?” He pulls your hair slightly so that your head tilts back.

You look back at him under your hooded lids, “I want you-” you can see his devilish grin nuanced by a flash of surprise at how forward you’re being, but you aren’t finished, “-to be the master for once,” you take a quiet breath to steady your voice, “Will you do that for me?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyone else get mad ASMR when someone plays with their hair?


End file.
